


Scaredy Pumpkin

by ghostieZone



Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye
Genre: Abstract thoughts, Anger, Angst, Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kinda, antisepticeye, gerald pumpkin, headcanon stuff, its more like hurt/hurt/cry about it, jacksepticeye - Freeform, nothing major but it mentions scars at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 01:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15208097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostieZone/pseuds/ghostieZone
Summary: He was a monster.He was pure, unbridled rage.This was THEIR fault.Yet again, that idiot of a hero had picked at his nerves. Over and over and over; he’d had enough of it. He had been good for so long; so fucking long he had held his temper, held his tongue, kept himself from lashing out. None of that mattered to them- ANY of them, no matter how much the doctor and magician did their best try to convince him it was okay to open up; to be normal. No, they’d always see him as the bloodthirsty, unstable monster he had been for so long, no matter how hard he worked to prove otherwise.Well, if that was what they wanted so badly… he would stop trying so hard.





	Scaredy Pumpkin

**Author's Note:**

> One of my biggest headcanons is that Gerald is a living creature, kinda like Anti's version of Sam? I've drawn a few pictures of him, so if you want to see what he looks like in this story I've posted them on my tumblr (@ghostiezone)! I really like how this one turned out- I've been reading a lot of Stephen King books lately and I think the way he writes disjointed/abstract thoughts in between paragraphs is really interesting, so I kinda tried to replicate that with this story. I feel like it adds to the sort of chaotic anger I was trying to describe here :D

He was a monster.

He was pure, unbridled rage.

This was THEIR fault.

Yet again, that _idiot_ of a hero had picked at his nerves. Over and over and **over** ; he’d had enough of it. He had been good for so long; so _fucking_ long he had held his temper, held his tongue, kept himself from lashing out. None of that mattered to them- ANY of them, no matter how much the doctor and magician did their best try to convince him it was okay to open up; to be normal. No, they’d always see him as the bloodthirsty, unstable monster he had been for so long, no matter how hard he worked to prove otherwise.

Well, if that was what they wanted so badly… he would stop trying so hard.

There he was, standing in the center of the recording room, staring at the camera and fuming. His blood boiled, dripping from the gash on his neck- he had removed the bandages long ago. It felt freeing, in a way. Blood was starting to stain the collar of his dark shirt. He didn’t care.

Said camera was turned on, but the lights in the room had blown out when he first entered, keeping him in partial darkness. He didn’t know what he was doing here, staring down the unblinking eye of the lens. Words didn’t flow as easily as blood, so he just stood there shaking for what seemed like forever, glaring straight forward and gripping the handle of his knife so hard his knuckles turned white.

His shaking turned to pixelating, pixels turning to full glitches as he loses control of his weak physical form.

The familiar feeling of electric shock and static was something he hadn’t felt in so long, it made him grin. But this smile stretched too wide; didn’t reach his eyes at all. A pitched giggle bubbled up out of his throat, soon turning to hysterical, almost desperate laughter. He doubled over, but another glitch brought him back to a standing position almost immediately.

The wall was broken, he had snapped, there was no coming back from this. Not for a long time, at least.

The knife wobbled in his dangerously loose grip as he swung his arms. “This is all RIDICULOUS. FUCKING. POINTL-LESS!” His voice cracked.

_Idiot. Sounds like a fucking child._

“I have done. EVERYTHING. WHAT ELSE DO YOU W-WANT ME TO DO??” another voice crack, another pitch shift. One second he’s pure rage, the next he looks like he’s about to cry.

_Cry? No, can’t do that._

“LIARS!!! they c-c-call me the m-monster, say I’M the ev-vil o-one. but LOOK WHAT THEY D-DID TO ME.” His head twitches as he gets stuck on the words.

_Broken record. B-B-Brok-ken._

All of the sudden an eerie calm set over him and he stood still for a moment, too-sharp smile still plastered on his face. “Well. They w-want me to be a monster, d-don’t they?”

Just as he was about to open his mouth to start again, a small flicker of movement caught the corner of his eye. Immediately defensive, he snapped his head to the side, instinctively holding his knife up in a position to attack.

What he saw, however, was not the door swinging open to reveal the faux-worried face of a doctor or the accusatory glare of a so-called ‘superhero.’ It was a living pumpkin, vines for legs and a soft yellow light glowing from a carved face. The creature was huddled in the corner, large circular eyes staring up at him and vines curled around its body as a sort of makeshift protection.

_Protection… why would it need protection from him, he would never hurt it– him._

He had always enjoyed creating fear. Hell, some even considered him to be fear incarnate, taking on characteristics of whatever a person was most afraid of. Never could he remember a time where another creature’s fear twisted his gut like this.

He had never seen that little carved face form anything but a smile; he didn’t even know it was possible for Gerald to frown.

_Gerald…_

And it _broke his heart_.

Anti’s anger fizzled away almost immediately, and he dropped to his knees. He set the knife on the floor, his hands still somewhat shaky and unstable, and slowly reached out a hand towards the pumpkin.

“Hey Gerald… buddy? It’s okay, c’mere..” Anti got control over his voice, so it didn’t break or stutter as much. He was trying to be… gentle?

Upon seeing his hand move closer though, the pumpkin tried to make itself seem smaller, pulling a vine up over its eyes in an attempt to hide.

Anti flinched. “No… no it’s okay, I won’t hurt you, I’m not gonna hurt you!” He tried to keep control over his emotions, but his voice cracked again and he was getting desperate. The others he didn’t care about, they could think he was a monster all they wanted, he didn’t need them. But Gerald… Gerald was the one living creature he cared the most about; he couldn’t lose him.

He pulled away from the pumpkin as slow as he could manage. His head dropped, and he gripped his hair in his hands, gritting his teeth. “Not you- please… I’m s-s-sorry I would never- I didn’t mean to scare you, I-” He continued to whisper nonsense, interrupted only by strange, hiccuping breaths. Anti’s eyes burned, and he brought a hand down to rub at one only to pull away with a streak of red. He was… bleeding?

No- this was _crying_.

And once he started, he couldn’t stop. Dark tears stained his face, breath catching and body starting to glitch again- even worse this time than it was when he was angry. He gave in, dropping his hands into his lap and closing his eyes, letting his body fall apart into pixels and reform itself in wild frequencies and patterns.

Anti nearly choked on a sob when he felt a gentle brush against the back of his arm. He looked up to see a look of cartoonish concern, a vine-leg gently wrapped around his wrist. Seeing the pumpkin’s face made him cry even harder, this time with a smile and a watery laugh. A genuine smile- a rare and fleeting sight on his face.

He pulled Gerald into his lap and closed his eyes hugging the little creature as if his life depended on it. Gerald, who had all but forgotten about the whole incident already, smiled again and draped his vines over Anti’s arms and relaxed.

After a second, Anti opened his eyes again to find Gerald was falling asleep in his arms. The smile fell from his face and a few fresh tears rolled down his cheeks.

He looked up at the camera, which was still recording. A quick burst of anger and static, however, shut it off completely. Nobody needed to see this, nobody needed to know how close he came to snapping again.

Anti looked down at his hands- sickly pale green skin; black nails sharpened into claws; streaks of blood from both his gaping neck and from wiping the tears from his face; scars covering his hands and wrists- some natural, others intentional.

He glanced over at the large knife laying close by on the floor, and caught a reflection of his face on the surface of the blade. A bloody, mutilated empty eye socket, and one eye that seemed somewhat normal with the exception of three split pupils, two of which were electric blue and one in the middle being a radioactive green.

He grimaced, gritting his teeth. Those too- sharp as fangs and unnatural. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away from the knife, bringing up a hand to scrub at the red tears starting to dry on his face.

He was a monster, that would never change.

This was his fault.


End file.
